


Not a victim

by Muze



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 21:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muze/pseuds/Muze
Summary: Edward had finally done it. He'd broken all of his promises, and with it Esther's heart.But not a single heart is incapable of being fixed. There was still something to be found amongst the pieces, and Lord Babington found it.





	Not a victim

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I was planning another Babington x Esther oneshot but then episode 7 happened and OH MY GOD.
> 
> My fantheory of Esther= Marianne and Babington= Colonel Brandon is so confirmed. Catching her without expectations after she was focussed on a fuckboy, being a wholesome A class chap, thanks for restoring our faith in men <3.
> 
> Spoilers for Sanditon episode 8 based on the sneak peeks
> 
> Also, raise your hands if you were today years old when you discovered Lord Babington's name is James!

For weeks now, Esther had been growing more worried about Edward.

He’d always wanted the money of their aunt, it was what guaranteed them a possible future together.

To Esther, that was it, just money which could fix her problems. But it wasn’t the end all be all goal, she didn’t care for it. She only cared for Edward, and the things he promised her.

She’d been dreaming of their future for so long now she couldn’t even begin to imagine any other possible turn of events. She could perfectly envision the Italian garden with structured rows of hedges and the orange and olive trees on the sloping hills she’d seen in many picture books.

She looked forward to seeing a relaxed Edward who wasn’t so worried about money and finally focussed on her. She dreamt of luxurious days in the sun, and boat trips in a bright blue sea instead of the foaming vaguely green greyish waters of Sanditon. She could taste the truffle risotto and delicious lobster. She tried to imagine the taste of antipasti and the Italian mutton. She imagined painting the sunset from a terrace overlooking the hills and sea while Edward stood behind her, supplying her with kind comments.

Edward’s current type of behaviour wasn’t in any of the moments she had envisioned, Future Edward was more of an Ideal version of him. Still handsome and funny, still making snide remarks about other people, but kind, relaxed and loving. Dream Edward gave her everything her heart desired, and approached her out of himself. She never had to beg for a touch or a kind word.

She’d started wondering how realistic those visions were for a while now. He only seemed to become angrier and moodier as the years passed by. He went out with other ladies more and more and he hadn’t touched her unprovoked in over a year.

And now with their aunt so close to dying, where she became worried by the real implications of getting the money, he almost seemed excited at the prospect of their aunt dying.

She’d never really cared about her mean relative, she was a busybody who considered herself a great deal smarter than all of her acquaintances. Her wealth had made her suspicious, and allowed for her to be temperamental and nasty, she deliberately kept her will a secret to make her family comply with all her whims.

Edward and Clara acted shocked and the Parkers panicked for what her death implicated for the future of Sanditon.

All their lives depended on her money, for the Parkers that meant she had to stay alive, for Edward and Clara that meant she should die. All these vultures circled around her deathbed. No, she didn’t like her aunt, but she did pity her.

The instant her brother stood up to pay his respects, she suddenly thought of Lord Babington, as she had so often these past few weeks.

She couldn’t figure out why he so frequently appeared in her thoughts.

She could hardly stand him when they first danced. She had to admit his insistence amused her. And that the writing in his letters wasn’t too shabby. A couple of times she even felt provoked to write back and call him out when she noticed subtle incorporations of poems she knew. She didn’t know whether he thought she wouldn’t notice, or whether he was deliberately trying to lure a response from her.

She had to admit she allowed him to give her attention because it got a response from her brother. He wasn’t jealous, nor did he fear for his position, but the snide remarks and agitated sighs revealed that he was annoyed by Lord Babington’s insistence.

She hadn’t calculated on Clara telling Lady Denham about Lord Babington, or that her aunt would meddle with her affairs. She also didn’t know what she expected from a conversation with him during the cricket match. She’d had a couple of ideas beforehand; him failing to perform because she distracted him, distracting Edward, pleasing Lady Denham… That were the things she had kind of expected.

What she hadn’t expected was that he would offer to take her for a walk, and that she’d agree to it. She had especially never expected to enjoy being around him, but there she’d been… laughing openly for the first time in so long.

To think that in just one day, she’d go from thinking him a stubborn desperate bore to someone worth genuinely considering a proposal of, was astounding. Yet it had happened.

Edward thought she only considered it because he’d rubbed their lack of money in her face earlier that week. He thought she did it only to spite him. It was a reason why she’d considered it, just like the money and Lady Denham’s remarks… But there were also reasons she didn’t dare vocalize, they were reason she didn’t even dare to dwell on because they implicated something quite dangerous and frightening. It was easier to pretend that she only considered it for practical and selfish reasons than it was to consider that she actually didn’t dislike him.

Every so now and often the only scene she’d imagined of a potential future with him popped in her head. An image of herself in a large library full of books she had yet to read, a sleeping child on her lap and Lord Babington coming in with a happy expression.

Edward had never even looked at a child for longer than a split second. He’d be like all the fathers she knew: distant, disciplinary. Somehow she thought of Lord Babington as a warm father who played with his children.

The vision had been so peaceful. The future she imagined with Edward was never that domestic. But she loved Edward and that was the end of it, there was no use in imagining a future with Babington.

When Edward came home he scolded her for even considering it, and then kissed away any doubt she had about him not wanting her anymore, the matter was decided. She sent Lord Babington walking. The imagine of his sad face still haunted her.

She liked to call herself a practical creature. She’d given up on that future so it didn’t do to dwell on “what ifs”. But like a poison he’d snuck into her mind and polluted her thoughts. Her brain kept comparing the two, and she found herself thinking on what he would do in certain scenarios. It drove her crazy.

Most of all it made her hate herself. She was in love with Edward, she couldn’t even remember a time where she hadn’t been in love with him. Thinking of Babington like that, while Edward worried so hard about getting the money so they could have their happy ending, felt like cheating.

She had to trust her brother, he wasn’t perfect, but she was certain that with enough love, time and money, he’d be the good and pleasant Edward she’d seen glimpses of throughout the years.

.

.

.

.

She followed Clara upstairs and sat down in a chair beside the door.

The ladies stared at each other in a tentative silence. Esther could never quite figure her out. She knew better than to trust her, especially after Edward’s silly attempt to get her out of Lady Denham’s favour.

To think Clara had gotten to touch Edward in ways that she never had and seen things she’d never seen, irritated her.

And then there was Clara’s constant teasing and unsubtle hinting about how she knew Esther was in love with him, even in the presence of others. That would have been fine, if it wasn’t for her warnings and the strange moments in which she showed a sentiment achingly close to worry for her. Clara confused Esther, and as Esther liked clarity, she disliked Clara even more.

‘Edward is taking his time.’

‘I cannot think what is taking him so long, given conversation with our aunt is so one-sided’, Clara remarked with a smile as she stood up. She stood up herself now, even closer to the door in a silly attempt to shield the door, and behind it Edward, from the cunning blonde.

‘He is showing due respect to a dying woman. You might consider doing likewise.’ It was one of the few wellintentioned things he’d done in weeks, she wouldn’t allow Clara to ruin that.

‘What has she done to earn my respect?’ Little, but she wouldn’t talk bad of the – nearly – dead.

‘I shan’t be lead into another quarrel.’ She was quite done being lead into these mind games of her.

‘Our amenity is finished, there never was a will.’

Clara’s face clouded. An ice cold shudder descended from Esther’s spine down her back and through her arms to the tips of her fingers. It was like her body could sense the truth.

‘There most certainly was. But its contents were monstrously absurd. Edward and I had no choice but to burn it. We both agreed half a share each was a far more agreeable outcome.’

A smile was creeping on her face, knowing exactly what implications her words created and knowing precisely what Esther was thinking. She schooled her face in a neutral expression.

Edward would have lied to her, burned the will, made a secret pact with Clara and had agreed in a way that she got nothing. When did he plan on telling her this?   
He hadn’t. She’d asked about it and he had deliberately lied to her face.

Edward was cunning and he was obsessed with the money, but why would he enter such a scheme with a cousin he declared to despise? It had to be one of Clara’s tricks, she’d been trying for months to make Esther doubt Edward’s sincerity.

‘Edward would never conspire with you. He regards you with absolute contempt’, she said carefully, her voice filled with all contempt she had for her cousin. She would never have Edward’s affection, no matter how she made it seem.

And yet there was no way to feign the kind of fondness he showed me.’

Esther resisted the urge to frown. What could she mean? Surely she couldn’t mean that something had transpired between the two of them. Maybe she was referencing whatever she did to him in the park.

‘You’re lying.’

‘I was lying.’

Ha! She knew Edward would never. She’d called her bluff and rightly so.

‘We both were. On the drawing room floor, if you must know. It was a fleeting encounter and he was touchingly eager, like a little boy. Has that been your experience too?’

Her hand launched itself towards Clara’s face, and her mask cracked the second the sound of her hand connecting with Clara’s cheek reverberated through the otherwise silent hallway. She had to be lying. Why would they do that? Clara knew Esther loved him, and Edward had sworn he loved her back.

… He’d never sounded eager, but he’d promised. She had put it down to him feeling more agony than joy at being in love with her since they couldn’t be together until their aunt died.

‘Oh, could it be that you’ve never given yourself to him?’

He never asked, he never even touched her without being provoked. He’d had sexual contact with Clara twice within a single month, what did dad say about how much he loved her? Why would he feel such a need for his cousin, if he claimed to want her?

No, it had to be a trick. She turned away from Clara’s face which was split between pity and amusement.

‘No wonder he was so keen to take his pleasure elsewhere.’

Everything in her head begged for her to lash out at Clara, to give in to her agony and jealousy and rage which had been brewing under the surface for so long. Anything to lighten the emotions inside of her and make others feel even a fragment of everything she felt. She wanted to scream and silence her niece forever.

Clara walked away and she remained frozen, her heart was beating crazy, but with nowhere for her energy to go, she sank down into a chair and tried to calm her shaking hands.

She had to be rational.

She had to be reasonable. There had to be a perfectly logical explanation for all of this. She couldn’t take Clara’s words at face value. Edward might still be innocent.

But… it could also be true. Her heart seemed to drop from her chest cavity onto her stomach, where a sharp pain formed.

_If you see it as a possibility that’s clearly a sign you believe him capable of it,_ said a quiet thought.

_But why would he change his mind after all these years?_ Unless he never really meant it in the first place.

Why _did_ he never approach her? Why did she have to beg for affirmation. She was pretty, she did everything for him. Why didn’t he approach her? Wasn’t she enough? What did she lack that Clara had? Other men liked her well enough… Though truthfully they’d always approached her without knowing a thing about her, and gave up on the chase after a night of her habitual coldness. They didn’t know who she was as a person. They didn’t know she loved poetry, enjoyed walking for hours and cried while reading Tom Hardy novels. They only wanted the pretty girl with the rare ginger hair. They couldn’t even endure three hours in the presence of a woman who didn’t go out of her way to please them. She wasn’t meek, docile or smiling like most women… She didn’t care to put up that act just to secure herself a husband. She had opinions like Charlotte Heywood, was stubborn like Miss Lambe and was cold like Lady Denham… But she had a crystal heart, which she had to cover in dark wraps, for if she carried it on her sleeve it risked falling.

And if it fell…

It broke into a thousand unfixable pieces.

_‘Do you love me?’ ‘… Of course.’_ Never those three words itself.

‘_it is quite impossible… But in your heart of hearts, you already know that.’_

She didn’t want to but she did. All this time she had hated herself for doubting Edward, but apparently she could’ve been right.

Edward exited the room. She couldn’t find the words yet. What could she say? She’d keep if for later, once she’d thought on it.

How could he stand there, making jokes about their dying aunt.

After he’d burned her will without feeling even the least bit conscious about it. Money hungry vipers. Him and Clare deserved each other.

She was still certain she disliked her aunt, be it only for the reason that her money and her constant threatening to withhold the money from them had corrupted and ruined her brother and turned him into the twisted creature he now was.

‘I realized too late what a fowl corrupting cancer your money was.’

Tears threatened to slip from her eyes, but she refused to spill a tear for her… for any of them. Her heart flowed over with heartache.

Money had ruined everyone in her family.

It all came tumbling from her lips. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.

When she came out she found her brother sleeping on the couch.

Her world had just stopped, yet here was her family continuing like nothing had happened.

Such a stupid little goose. How long that they fooled her? How many lies had they told her? Or had nothing happened? A part of her mind still clung to Edward’s promises of Italy and marriage.

‘If I had known it would have been this drawn out, I would have gone and slept in my own bed.’

This was her moment to test Edward’s truthfulness.

He wouldn’t fail her.

‘Perhaps you’d be more comfortable on the floor’, she said while failing to keep the venom – the insult – out of her voice.

Please don’t fail me, Edward.

He stared at her, an awful long look. His eyebrows knitted together.

He wasn’t denying it.

He wasn’t – his chin angled to the right… he was going to turn it to the left. He was going to shake his head. He was going to deny it!

_Yes, Edward. Please shake your head!_

The doctor and Clara came barging in again, one excited while the other looked very scared.

Their aunt was on the better hand.

She couldn’t prevent a smile, whatever scheme they had concocted was for naught.

Alleged scheme, her mind corrected itself.

She didn’t know for sure.

Though in her heart. She knew.

.

.

.

She kept her distance as they all entered the dark room. Her aunt sat upright, with her habitual disdainful pout steadily in place on her lips. She let out a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She didn’t like her, but she’d never wanted her dead. They both fluttered towards the end of the bed, both their faces full of agony and relief.

They played so well. If she didn’t know of their scheme and if she hadn’t heard them curse her with their own lips she would have probably believed them.

‘Although there is nothing like imminent death to focus the mind.’

Oh god.

Esther took a step back until she felt the curtain press against her legs. Had her aunt heard her? She’d spilled everything based on a single moment in which Clara had used all Esther’s weaknesses to lure a response from her.

No, it would be fine. If it was all a lie her brother would be able to rectify it and Clara would be sent away for good.

The dumb blonde had signed her own death warrant.

‘It seems I have underestimated the boundless depths of your venality.’

Edward laughed, thank god. It had to be fake.

Wait no, he had wished for her death. He was acting now. His laugh didn’t dispel what Clara had told her.

‘No, I am anything but. Like a phoenix I am rising from the ashes, which is more than can be said of my last will and testament.’

Oh lord, here it came. They backed away from the bed like Lady Denham had suddenly turned into a poisonous snake ready to bite. There was fear in their eyes.

‘Like your miserable souls that is blackened beyond redemption.’

‘It was all Clara’s idea!’

No! She could sink through the floor. It was true. They’d burned it… That made the odds of making the other thing true so high… it had to be true too.

Oh Edward, why wasn’t I enough? We thought she was dying, we thought that we’d be rid of her in a week. You couldn’t wait a week for me?

‘Neither of you shall ever darken my doors again. And Edward Denham, from this moment forth you are disowned. And Clara Brereton, you shall be put on the next coach back to London. I suggest you start packing. Get out.’

Edward was stepping back, he was sticking his arm out towards Clara. He waited for her.

Liar!

Liar!

Blasted Dandy.

How could you do this to me?

She was dizzy, sick to her stomach and faint headed. It was all true.

How could a man love her if he was screwing around with dozens of women including her cousin? He couldn’t.

‘Needless to say I should be laying a new floor in my drawing room!’

They stood still in the doorway, staring at each other.

They didn’t deny it.

Because it was true.

All these years she’d believed him.

And these past weeks she’d felt guilty for doubting him.

Now there wasn’t a promise he hadn’t broken.

She looked at the window, imagining for a last time the Italian garden she’d imagined a thousand times over the last decade.

Ten years of waiting for money.

Ten years of waiting for him.

All her youth, all for naught.

‘And as for you Esther, it appears you are now my sole remaining heir. And more by luck then judgement.’

Yes, the money, of course. It was always about the money. How ironic, all this time she’d wanted the money so she and Edward could be together and now that she had it, she’d lost her future.

‘Now since I am old and ill, and you are alone I see no need for you to continue living in that house. You’ll move in with me tomorrow and we’ll make sure your brother won’t use that house anymore. I’ll send some of my servants over with a coach tonight so that all your stuff can come to this house. I’ll have a room prepared. I assume you won’t want Clara’s one.

‘Thank you, Lady Denham. You can do as you please, though I would prefer another room indeed. Thank you.’

‘You don’t look happy. Is even my fortune not grand enough to bring a smile to your face. You’ve won.’

‘I didn’t want to win. This was not a game. What use is the damned money anyway?’

‘What use is the… Esther! Where are you going? Come back here! The carriage will be at your door at eight.’

‘Fine.’

So she went home by foot, and found herself crying on the same exact spot where she refused Lord Babington for Edward.

The part of her mind that had been drawing comparisons between Edward and Lord Babington came forward again. She’d been angry each time it happened, and had cursed her mind for its wickedness.

She now allowed the comparisons to bloom as she crumbled down on the grass. And the victor stood tall and high above the other in rank and personality. Her dreams of Edward lay next to her in the grass, just as broken as her heart.

Edward had treated her like she was retarded before, like the answers were evident and she was the only one who didn’t know them. _‘__ Because. We’re. Dead. Poor__ .’_ Maybe she was actually as stupid as he treated her, maybe that was the reason why she kept believing his lies for so long.

But even as her love was being burned by boiling rage, the shattered fragments of her heart cried. For years he’d made her promises, isolated her from every living person… He’d told her to mistrust them all and so she’d believed everything he’d said with blind unwavering trust.

She was so stupid.

But in her heart, she couldn’t believe he never loved her.

And for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong to lose it.

Until now, she hadn’t know she could both hate someone and hate herself for the exact same thing.

.

.

.

.

‘Miss Lambe! Sir Edward! Word to the wise, Babington. You should know my sister is utterly deluded. She's been making the most preposterous slurs against my name. All in some cynical bid to steal my share of an inheritance. It breaks my heart to say it, but she's dead to me. You're welcome to her.’

Lord Babington looked at the drunk Denham brother in confusion.

He had so many questions. Why would she be deluded? Why would she slander his name and why? She didn’t appear to him as a money grabber. He didn’t want to boast but if money was her primary objective, she wouldn’t have refused to marry him, he had more than enough of it and hadn’t exactly been difficult to catch.

But most importantly: what did Edward Denham disliking his sister have to do with him getting together with Esther?

Esther was of age but Edward was the sole male in her family. They lived together.

She said she’d consider his proposal… What if the final decision hadn’t been hers? Had he gotten between them? Why?

His mind imagined four possibilities at once, but they were all too grave and awful to be true, or so he hoped. He decided it was better to ignore the thoughts.

‘What did he mean, Crowe? "Utterly deluded." That's not the Esther Denham I know.’

She was smart, her tongue a blade which lashed out with immaculate precision, her decisions calculated… He didn’t believe her to be cunning and mean, but she was a smart woman who knew what she was doing.

‘Who cares, man? Focus on the matter at hand’, he said as he took a swig from his flask. ‘I have five pounds on us taking first place.’

Perhaps he should indeed focus on the problem at hand right now…

Though he wasn’t quite sure whether the problem was the race or his friend’s liver.

.

.

.

He should really start watching Crowe more. His love for liquor was widely known, but it was getting out of hand. It was only a matter of time before something serious went wrong… he doubted it would be something so innocent as a regatta next time.

For now though, that problem would have to wait.

.

.

.

.

The remainder of the tears which her stupid heart wanted to spill would be scheduled right before bed and shortly after waking the coming few weeks. Because today, once she’d gotten up from the grass, she didn’t have the time.

She’d only had five hours to pack everything she needed. So she went through all the rooms armed with a pen and a paper and wrote down all the items which had to come with her, which had to be kept, and which could be disposed of. She’d only have a simple room and the house was full of paintings. She didn’t know what she’d do with them just yet, and she would certainly miss looking at a great deal of them, but the house wouldn’t disappear from the surface of the earth. She could ask Lady Denham about it some time or another. The paintings could stay here for the meantime.

She employed the whole household staff. Everything was being cleaned, cleared and put into boxes. She didn’t take the time for dinner, not that she had the stomach for it.

It was 7:30 and she only had one room left to do and only her personal trunk left to pack.

She was just carrying three of her romance books towards the place where her trunk stood when the bell rang.

She swore to God if Edward had returned, suddenly pretending like their happily ever after was going to happen, she’d either kill him or herself.

He finally came to her on his own accord. He tempted her with the very thing she thought she’d lost that afternoon. She could accept him and have her future. But she could never trust him again. Nor could she trust his motives. Did he love her or did he love the money she’d get? And so she’d danced on the broken particles of her heart until they turned to dust as she sent him away.

After he’d appeared that afternoon she’d trashed his room and broken all the mirrors inside of it. But she hadn’t cried, she felt too hollow for crying.

Putting the books into her trunk, trailing one finger over the top of _The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne_, she startled upon hearing a male voice.

‘Sir, I’m quite capable of finding my own way there! Thank you very much.’

A voice she recognized instantly, and with a certain measure of dread she realized there was one person who she was even less eager to meet than Edward, the one person who embodied just how much she’d given up for Edward.

She had no desire to be confronted with her own stupidity tonight.

‘I told you to refuse all visitors!’ She hissed to the butler.

The second she saw him she realized she would cry again. She most definitely would. It was bad enough that Edward had strung her along for years. It was bad enough he broke her heart. She didn’t need the humiliation of someone seeing her so broken right now. She was Esther Denham and she would not lose face.

Stupid man, in his stupid weird coat. Why did he even come? She’d refused him. They hadn’t talked in over two weeks. He couldn’t possibly know. Or did he?

‘Wait! I ask only for a moment.’

Well, that was the most determined she’d ever seen him. And thinking that after he’d insisted on writing to her without responding to anything, said something. She threw a look at her butler and maid. They wordlessly left the room.

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat. He couldn’t know, there’d only been four people present today. Seeing as Lady Denham was still bedbound, and she herself hadn’t said anything, that left only Edward and Clara. But what could they benefit from telling him about what had transpired?

Unless…  
Unless Edward, who had already been drinking this afternoon, had thought it right to take vengeance and ruin her reputation so that not even Lady Denham’s money could make her an eligible wife. It wasn’t below him. Oh god. Don’t let Babington know she refused him because of Edward. She’d die from embarrassment.

This was it, this was the moment where she’d lose the last bit of esteem he held for her, after she’d already ruined her chances with him.

‘Miss Denham, I have done all I can to forget about you, but it is quite impossible.’

He was going to be nice? No, the last she needed was pity. Realizing she wouldn’t be able to school her expression, she walked away from him. Was he here to ask her again, thinking she’d fallen so low she had no choice but to accept his proposal? She didn’t want to be a good cause. She wanted a love match, not one out of pity!

‘I feel I could spend a thousand years in your company and still not fathom you out. And yet, when I heard your brother speak of you today in the most derogatory terms, I felt I finally began to understand –‘

Edward! Of course Edward had betrayed her. The news felt like a punch it the gut. All those years and it only took him a whole of an hour to betray her confidence and ruin her for his own benefit… Just like he did with everyone else.

She’d truly meant nothing to him.

She had to get him out. She couldn’t do this right now.

To know that Edward had laid bare her heart, which she’d so freely given to him for over a decade and that Lord Babington potentially though her a fallen woman… the shame was suffocating. She hadn’t done anything! Less than a handful of kisses were shared. It was him and Clara who’d done the depraved things reserved for married couples. She’d waited. For years! She’d wasted all her prime years of being on the marriage market waiting.

‘You know nothing!’ She walked away to pick up another something from the tabletop. She prayed he’d get the hint and leave.

‘I think you've been his prisoner for too long. He alone has had the power to determine your self-worth and he has abused that power in ways I can barely even guess at!’

There it was, she was a fallen woman. And he still couldn’t treat her with anything but kindness. She didn’t deserve him. Even now she lashed out at him like a wounded cat, he still didn’t cower. Even debased and unpleasant as she was, he remained.

Why? She’d only been kind to him for one day. He’d only seen her cold façade and now her raw emotional state. She couldn’t stay angry in the face of such kindness.

All the fight left her as a sob finally raked through her.

‘I do not know what has transpired. But I only hope this means you are free at last of his pernicious influence. And I know you don't hold me in much esteem, but I came here without expectation and in the spirit of friendship to make you a promise. Your brother is not going to make a victim out of you. I will not allow it.’

All wrong. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed with sadness she would have laughed at his lovely ignorance. If he only knew how she’d considered his proposal. How much he’d haunted her thoughts since her refusal. Of course he wouldn’t marry a fallen women, but he was too kind to let anyone suffer.

She followed the movement of his hands. He wasn’t… He wasn’t going to propose, was he?

Her heartbeat picked up again until he retrieved a handkerchief. An odd mixture and relief and disappointment ran though her body as she let out a breath and finally collected the courage to look him in the eyes.

He wasn’t an Edward by all means, he had none of the classical Grecian facial features. He was as dark as Edward was fair, smooth where Edward was rough. Round where Edward was lean. The lack of similarities made her heart flutter as she observed him. She felt nervous staring at him, though he did have the kindest look in his eyes, they weren’t shielded like Edward’s. Maybe it was for the best he and Edward were different like day and night.

She took the offered handkerchief. She calmed down again, though the unease in her belly remained.

Edward years of her life, but she wouldn’t let him ruin her any further.

‘Whatever Edward insinuated, I’m not ruined. I’m not. Really. He never used me in that way.’

‘I believe you.’

‘And I don’t dislike you.’

‘I find that somewhat harder to believe.’

She huffed a laugh at the unexpected humour.

‘Allow me to convince you.’

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

And he did. For he appeared at Lady Denham’s house the next day. She was grateful for the interlude since Lady Denham had already managed to occupy her the entire morning, forcing her to read to her while giving throwaway comments about how stupid she was to fall for Edward’s tricks. She wasn’t in the mood for her comments. She’d barely slept and her heart still ached from the betrayal. She wasn’t even feeling like wearing colour today, so she wore all black.

It was hardly a pretty look, which she regretted when friend-of-the-prince-regent and determined to become friend-of-Miss-Denham Lord Babington arrived.

‘Are you about to show me yet another one of your secret spots?’

‘We won’t be walking today’, he revealed as he lead her towards a carriage furbished with black leather.

‘I heard there’s nothing like the beach to forget one’s worries.’

She let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes.

‘Your sense of humour is beyond redemption.’

‘Ah, but it did manage to make you smile.’

‘Only because it is so absolutely ridiculous.’

‘Since I am shallow,’ he said as he climbed in the carriage himself, ‘I cannot dig deeper for a more refined joke.’

‘I lied, you know.’

He took the reins in hand and gave her a long look, unsure of what to say next.

‘I hope we can reinstate our principle of being without pretence.’

_‘I doubt there are many among us who can say that they've lived a life free from pretence.’_

_‘Well, then, surely, if we're to lead a better life we're honour bound to free ourselves from such a burden.’_

‘We have a principle now?’

‘We could.’

She’d just paid for the price of lies and pretence.

‘I’d like that.’

He lead the carriage out of the city.

‘Did you lie about other things?’

Liking him. Saying the marriage would be a guaranteed disaster. The things she could not say out loud without it leading somewhere.

‘So, here we are.’

‘Hm, I’ve never seen this place before. I suddenly feel rejuvenated. Yes, all that was broken has miraculously healed by a gust of wind from France. I can feel the French air filling my lungs. Oui, je suis en pleine santé.’

He laughed freely. ‘I take it you don’t believe the advice all of our outstanding doctors give.’

‘I believe what I see. How can wind, no matter from where it comes, or dirty salt water in which fish swim and sailors die, restore our health?’

‘A sceptic.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘Since I should respect your natural superiority of mind, I should just hand you the reins.’

Metaphorically speaking?

He held the reigns out for her, but for some reason she simply knew he meant more.

‘And you just trust me?’

‘I always give trust before I mistrust. Why not?’

‘Clearly not enough people are aware of that trusty nature, elsewise you would have lost it long ago.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s in people’s nature to use everything that is beneficiary to them.’

‘Perhaps, but only bad people use everything no matter the human cost. I would take a free apple when offered, but I have no use for a full apple orchard when there are people starving and a farmer putting time into maintaining it.’

‘That’s… Nice.’

The moment was dragging on for too long so with a wave of the reins she sent the horses racing over the sand.

He was shocked by the turnaround and she laughed at his expression.

Maybe the wind was helping.

For she sure felt all heaviness leave her chest and stomach as they raced over the hard part of the beach. The cold wind cut in her face but she revelled in the feel. If she could only go fast enough to completely race away from her past until there was no Clara, no cursed money, no Edward and no stupid mistakes from the past.

She stopped as sudden as she’d started, breathing heavily and laughing at the same time.

Her heart still raced like mad and her longs burned from breathing in the cold wind.

It was only when she caught her breath that she noticed Lord Babington was staring at her.

‘Miss Denham, have you promised anyone your first dance for the Midsummer Ball?’

‘No.’

‘Might I be so bold as to ask for the first two?’

_‘How many would-be suitors have I seen founder on the rocks of your disdain? It will take a bolder man than Babington to pierce your armour.’_

Bolder than continuing to write to her when she didn’t give him any attention? Bolder than just asking her to marry him on the spot? Bolder than forcing himself past two servants explicitly telling him off? Bolder than someone who conquered their own hurt and swallowed their own pride just to check if she was fine and then just offered their heart a second time?

She doubted she’d find such a man.

‘James, Babbs! Denham! St- It’s the workers. The ropes shot through when they were working on a building site. A large marble pillar fell and crushed someone. Apparently Mr. Parker landed under it together with a worker. Apparently Mr. Parker has been delaying giving the workers new equipment for months.’

‘Hop in, we’re going’, Lord Babington said. He had no more cares for his own affairs now that someone was hurt.

_Edward would never._

She offered him the reins back.

‘Just go a bit slower now.’

He trusted her again.

‘I will’, she responded. He looked at her questioningly and she spared him a smile.

Yes to both. Both dances and the drive.

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Tom Parker had a broken leg, but the other man, the senior Mr. Stringer who’d just returned to the job, had been less fortunate. The family apparently opted for a quick burial and no three days later the wedding took place. His young son got all money they were both owed, and a substantial sum in damages. He left the next day, for some sort of education apparently, Miss Heywood seemed quite shaken by the overall affair and seemed to clit to the middle Parker brother the whole time.

The days preparing for the ball were uncomfortable, the air in the town was tense.

Lady Denham was positively furious with Mr. Parker for always finding new ways to spend money instead of doing a few limited projects a time which he did manage to pay.

‘You do know that everything I pay, you won’t be getting.’

‘Aunt, I honestly don’t care. They’ve worked for the money and you won’t need it. Give it to them. They’ve got families to feed.’

It was a foreign idea to her aunt that these were actual living people with needs.

But she paid them, and Tom Parker would know very very well that she wasn’t pleased about having to cover his expenses.

But it did help to break the tensions in Sanditon. The workers finally settled down again, though they were angry that it had taken a literal death for their employers to see that it was time money was invested in them.

A town didn’t only need visitors, it needed its people as well.

The day of the ball arrived and all seemed to finally be well in Sanditon. Clara had left for London, Edward seemed to have vanished in the black of the night, Lady Denham could – to her own delight and everyone’s dread – walk again just in time for the ball and even the workmen of the town were as good as happy.

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‘Miss Denham.’

‘Lord Babington.’

‘May I say You are looking… uncommonly well. If I may say so.’

She allowed his eyes to rake over her exposed shoulders and the plunging neckline of her grey dress.

Her aunt had already insinuated she’d dressed to impress him and she felt inclined to remark that she wasn’t looking like this to please him. But he wasn’t afraid to ask questions, and she didn’t have reasons which could be exposed. She couldn’t tell him she’d seen Edward in the city today and felt down because of it. She couldn’t say she felt insecure. She couldn’t say she wanted to be the prettiest woman in the room. She couldn’t say that dressing up gave her the confidence to get through the night.

So she fought to keep the blush off her face as her heartbeat picked up.

She hadn’t felt desired in so long.

‘I keep looking uncommonly well. I wonder what day I will look common, and what you shall say then?’

‘You caught me.’

Her heart stopped beating. But the dance needed her to step away from him and switch places with the person beside her, which gave her time to come up with a response. She continued the cotillion until she was standing in front of him again.

‘So, what shall you do then?’

‘I believe that in due time I shall conclude there is nothing ordinary or common about you.’

‘I thought you already concluded that first one’, she smiled. Now she was the one who showed that she’d paid attention during earlier conversations.

‘I… Did. Now that you’ve stolen away two of my compliments by pointing out their silliness. What am I to do?’

Esther remained silent as they started the Spanish Dance.

‘I shall have to find new solid compliments in which no fault can be found. I’ve already complimented your hair before. Maybe I should compliment you on your clothes?’

‘Lord Babington.’

‘Or your smile, since I quite like it.’

‘Lord Babington’, she hissed as she bit her lip.

‘Or your dancing, isn’t that something conventional to remark upon while dancing.’

‘Yes I dance well. You dance well. The room is very gay. Everyone looks splendid. The orchestra plays perfectly and the punch is top notch. And at the end of the night everyone shall agree that with such magnificent parties it is only a matter of time before everyone comes to Sanditon. There, have we said all polite bland compliments there are to give tonight?’

‘Something could be said about the banquet.’

‘Oh yes, how could I forgot the hours of labour put into the ridiculous amount of pigeon pies?’

‘Yes, quite shameful. You might want to look under your bed tonight, Miss Denham, the cook may come to take vengeance on those who forgot to respect his craft.’

‘We can’t have that, can we?’

‘No, it would be an awful shame… To be bereft of your company.’

‘Yes, I believe the disappearance of one woman of England’s millions of women shall be felt for years to come by the whole of England.’

‘I would.’

‘As would many others’, he added after an awkward silence.

‘Would they?’

‘Would you miss us?’

‘Some more than others’, she admitted.

‘I believe the same goes in the reverse fashion. I like to believe that those who I would miss the most, are the ones who’d miss me the most. Otherwise I…’

He stopped himself when he realized that what he was going to say was potentially applicable to Esther, and he didn’t want to make her sad tonight.

‘Misjudged them and the relationship. I agree.’

He tripped. Of course he did. And that managed to make Esther laugh again.

‘Yes well. Alright alright. Now that I’ve made a fool of myself you can laugh. You may laugh, Miss Denham, but the whole room will have it known that you have a poor dancing partner.’

‘Yes, your reputation is quite lost now. You can quite forget other ladies chasing you after such a poor display of dancing skills. You’ll be found lacking as a suitor.’

The dance stopped. He bent. She didn’t turn away.

‘What?’

‘What?’

Ladies switched partner as she looked him in the eye.

‘Three dances with one partner? Miss Denham, people will start thinking that you actually like me.’

‘It’s only out of pity. I don’t want you to remain standing on the side after you’ve proven yourself to be a lost cause.’

Heaven protect her soul, she hadn’t paid attention to the scheduled dances. It was a redowa. He offered her his hands.

She wouldn’t be able to let them go for over three minutes. It had been ages since she’d held someone for that long a time.

She laid her gloved hands in his.

And away they went. Skipping through the room.

And in the comfort of the warm room, in the privacy of their movement without anyone paying attention to them but without being alone in a way that what she was going to say would be uncomfortable, she finally answered his question from days ago.

The question she hadn’t answered in all the times she’d spent time with him since.

‘I lied, about answering without pretence.’

He remained silent for a long time, but she knew his mind was working.

She wanted to add to the statement, but she didn’t dare to.

‘Miss Denham, I’ve been wondering… And without any wish to injure your liking me and our newly found friendship which I am happy with… If you had another answer in mind on that certain day?’

‘Lord Babington –‘

‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. And the answer you do give doesn’t have to mean anything either.’

‘I-‘

‘Esther!’

And there he was.

Drunk.

Tall.

Magnificent.

And incredibly angry.

‘Well you wasted no time going after him did you? What? Isn’t auntie’s money enough? Do you have to have that of his as well? Little Esther, dancing with the fancy people now that she’s eliminated us.’

‘Go away man, you’re drunk!’ cried Crowe, himself stumbling.

Sidney Parker was making his way towards Edward as Esther froze.

‘I’m – I’m not… Money has nothing to do with it.’

‘Sure. Just like you didn’t think of the money when you told aunt about Clara and me!’ The room gasped collectively.

‘Don’t speak to her like that you depraved drunk-‘ Lord Babington yelled at the same time as Lady Denham cried: ‘Edward Denham! Leave this room immediately!’

‘I shall not have you here embarrassing the family name and ruining this ball!’

‘Hello aunt, how’s life with two less people to give money to? You greedy bitch!’

Lord Babington was pulling her away from him.

She could have kissed him for wanting to protect her.

But she wasn’t about to be the victim of another smear campaign.

‘Stop it! You’re the greedy one! I wouldn’t have told her anything if you hadn’t decided to stoop so low and burn a dying woman’s will! I didn’t think of money when I told her of Clara and you. It was you and Clara who thought of money when you were together. You can’t imagine anything but money being important to anyone because you’re so obsessed with it yourself. Now get away from here and away from me! I’m done with you. And I’m done with your lies. You never cared for anyone. We all could have died and you wouldn’t have given a crap.’

Now Lord Babington was striding past her as the middle Parker brother and Lord Babington both took hold of a shoulder and started dragging him away.

‘Needless to say, you’ll be unwelcome to Sanditon from now on!’ cried Tom Parker.

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The party never quite recovered from the spectacle, and a shaking Esther was led away from the crowd and towards a quiet sitting room in the building, a glass of punch placed between her hands by Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe.

‘He had no right saying the things he did.’

‘You don’t even know what he was talking about.’

‘I don’t need to know more. In case you forgot: I have money myself. I know how people can fight for your approval, and try to get others out of your favour in the hopes of receiving some of it.’

‘It brings out the worst in him. And now he’ll have an eternal lack of it.’

‘I must say, I really enjoyed you giving it to him like that.’

‘Me too. You were amazing, Miss Denham, truly. To just stare him right in the face and rebuff everything he had to say. Marvellous.’

A knock on the door disturbed the three girls.

‘Don’t let him ruin your night girl. You looked magnificent on the dancefloor. Don’t rob an old woman of that sight.’

‘Lady Denham!’ Charlotte stood upright and bowed. Miss Lambe simply stared at the woman, the pineapple lunch not forgotten.

‘Yes aunt. Though I might need some time.’

‘You can have it, but don’t go home. I won’t have him chasing you away. Think about how that will look. Be a phoenix.’

There was the Lady Denham they all loved and despised.

Lady Denham looked behind her, to a point the girls couldn’t see from inside the room.

‘Miss Lambe, Miss Heywood. Come with me now.’

Miss Heywood threw a last look at Esther. She understood. You had to pick your battles with Lady Denham. Miss Lambe, on the other hand, wanted to put up a fight with everyone every day. But Miss Heywood took her hand and in a matter of second the lady in blue was dragged outside the room.

‘May I come in?’

She went to stand when she noticed the figure of Lord Babington. She quickly downed her punch and placed the cup on the table.

‘Yes.’

‘That was-‘

‘Extraordinary?’

‘Marvellous.’

‘I’m not a victim’, she whispered as he kept coming closer to her.

‘No, you most certainly aren’t.’

‘You won’t stand for it.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Neither will I.’

Ever so slowly, giving her plenty of time to withdraw, his fingers inched towards hers until they were laced together.

‘Since we’re not allowing him to successfully ruin the party… Perhaps we should pretend like it never happened?’

‘If that is your wish.’

‘So we should continue our conversation.’

Lord Babington remained silent as Esther ever so gently lifted one of his hands and pressed a kiss on his knuckles.

‘I had planned another answer. And the past week, I’ve had plenty of proof that that answer would have been the right one…’

It was so soon after Edward.

Would he think poorly of her if she switched affection so suddenly?

Would she be enough for him? Or would his gaze start wandering as well?

No he never thought poorly of her, he didn’t judge her like Edward did.

And her affection had been so slowly building… if Edward hadn’t polluted her mind, if he hadn’t been keeping her so close… She would have discovered long ago that all those thoughts of him weren’t coincidental.

If Edward hadn’t been there, she might have recognized the signs sooner.

She would have realized she’d been falling in love with him ever since he first decided to ignore the mask she wore to keep people out. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t intimidated. He’d been up for the challenge.

And her fondness grew during their first walk.

And blossomed when while faced with the real her; ugly, broken and crying, he refused to turn away.

‘Yes.’

He didn’t go for the kiss first.

He pulled her inside of his warm arms.

Holding her in a tender embrace which warmed her inside and out, he calmed the storm brewing inside of her.

‘Dear Esther. Dear, dear Esther.’

His fingers traced her jawline and held her chin.

‘I love you.’

And then there were his lips.

And her chest simply exploded with feelings.

It wasn’t the thrill of doing something forbidden. It wasn’t a kiss in which her lips begged Edward to be satisfied with her in an attempt to convince him that she was enough.

It was a warm hot feeling, which spread throughout her body at record speed. Instead of tensing up, her body melted against his as his arms kept her safely against his body, allowing her to enjoy the physical sensation in the knowledge that he’d be there for her even after the kiss ended.

No ifs. No maybe’s.

Just a yes.

And a promise which was fulfilled no three months later.


End file.
